Special Detective Anon of the Anthro Reintegration Offices
The Medical Incident:
I’ve been medical for two days now. I got a little cat scratch out in the field and those things infect nastily. My leg has been red and bruised the whole time. The guy who’s been looking after me is Davis, some kind of black bear. He says he’s from Asia, but his accent is definitely local. It twangs. Words are stretched like taffy. You need big guys like him in medical to haul around other big guys who get dropped in the field, plus a sharp claw can cut a lot of bad stuff outta you in a pinch.
“Yers gotta relax yerself, Anon.” he is wheeling me and the chair to the ablutions. I can’t walk with all these chemicals in my leg. “Imma gunna ran yous a hot bath and then imma gunna put yous innit.”
“Whatever Davis. Just don’t drop me.” He won’t. He can shift bovids when he wants to.
It’s a big bath, because it needs to allow up to three big anthros in it at once. One for the patient, one for a doctor and another for assisting. Davis has it run just for me, or so I thought. I’m not a maths expert but that looks like he’s run it for more. I’m not bashful, so I don’t mind as he helps me get in the all together and into the water, but then the guy starts disrobing himself.
“Ain’t gots any swimmers in today, I forgot,” he explains and stands there nude next to me. The water’s hot enough that as soon as my nuts touch the water I haven’t got any swimmers left either.
Maybe he was from Asia. I heard they do this sort of communal bathing malarkey there also. Dunno about sitting this close though. I also dunno about the backrub or the claws going through my hair with the shower gel. I’m starting to suspect something about Davis.
“Gets yer legs moving without stress. Good weight loss for fatties like me.”
“Is this about last year, Davis?”
“Li’l bit. Thanks for setting me ups in yer guest room for winter. Hang on,” he lets me go then and leans over the edge of the pool-tub-thing.
“Davis if you want your ass fucked just say, no-one’s buying the whole bending over and accidently spreading your legs routine. Especially since I can see that’s a goddamn lube bottle.”
“Yers gots me,” he lowers himself into the water but keeps the lube near the edge. His fur and fat make him float easily as he drifts closer. One paw goes to support my ass again, pushing my junk out of the water, which also is partially floating in the current. Big paws can make a man feel inadequate, but Davis has a soft touch from some medical practise so I ignore it. “Yer did fuck me good, though.”
“Yeah, well, you did take up the room for over a month. I had to get my money’s worth.”
“Naw man, that ain’ts pay. If I cans remember you knuckle-deep in my keister then I stills owes yer.” He expands his whole paw, which easily reaches the extreme edges of my hips with the claws. But like water makes a razor glide, so too does it make his claws glide over as he contracts the grip back over to my groin, engulfing it all. “I reckon yer dick’s bigger than yer finger anyhows.”
“Well, I can’t put any weight on my leg. You said so.”
He grinned then. A lot of the soft side of him stepped aside to allow him to give the idea my cum was like honey to him. “That ain’t gunna be an issue, Anon. Big guy like me don’t ever need to put you on the ground.” He had two fat paw-like fingers on either side of my shaft, slightly clamped together and was making me fuck the tight gap. He paw sent ripples radiating out from the middle of the pool. “Unless yous wants me as a big pillow. Wanna fuck these two cushions, detective?”
“When did you get so foul mouthed?”
“Right about whens you whacked my prostate last. We calls that a ‘medically significant’ event ‘round here ya knows.”
“Can’t get someone else to look at it?”
“Not a human. You guys ain’t got no claws or hooves and I ain’t interested in other primates. Now, hold still…”
He lets go of my ass and I slowly go vertical again. The head dips below the waterline. He begins to show off how long he can hold his breath.
When he comes up again it was after half a minute of making my face twitch. Davis doesn’t care much for public opinion about how he and I interact. You can’t argue with the guy doing your stitches, its bad for business.
Steam rolls off him in huge sheets. He’s a huge guy. Got lots of surface area to go with it. A gentle touch inspects my chemically-saturated leg.
“It’s good like this?” he turns the limb about professionally.
“Yup.”
“And like this?” he moves it again.
“Uh-huh.”
“Good.” He lifts me bodily from the water and sets me down on the side of the pool. It’s cool by comparison. “Then yer leg aint gunna get in mah way.”
“Oh, you horrible-“
His weight and girth forces my thighs apart and pins me between his ass and the edge. With a single expert motion he had sat himself on my lap and lubed himself in one go. With incredible accuracy he had sank me up to the hilt into his hole with the squat. Steam from his back fur is roiling off him and into my face, splashes echo about the joint as he repeatedly drops onto my cock.
He won’t crush me, but he won’t be letting me go until I’m done. Hundreds of pounds of fur and fat were on a crusade to make me bust inside it.
“Heard what ya did to the other bear. The inmate. Gives us bears a bad name, he does. Good ya got him early.” He was saying this as his fat globes of an ass jiggled on my lap. The bastard was setting me up for a long flashback memory to give himself more fuck-time before I could finish.
The door of the prison cell had hissed shut behind me, sealing me in with the hulking figure inside. My coat and bullet-resistant vest had been stripped off at the checkpoint. I liked that coat. It made me look good when people shanked me.
The afore-alluded-to brown bear inmate filled the narrow space, his massive frame unchanged by months behind bars. Brown fur under an orange jumpsuit. He had his paws clenched around The Box. Electronic screen had two stark marks: a red X for failed code attempt and a blue one for attempted forced entry. No one ever got a third X.
"Drop 'em," I said, my voice flat and commanding.
Without hesitation, his paws moved to his waistband. The orange prison slacks slid down his thick thighs, pooling at his ankles along with the thin white prison-issued boxers underneath.
I had micro-cage his dick. The Anthro Reintegration Offices special, that one. Lots of anthros suddenly wanted to cooperate after a few days of not being able to the five-knuckle-shuffle. A flat piece of metal had been pressed flush against his groin. I had put it there myself, with the help of a few extra arms.
"State your number," I ordered, pulling out my electronic tablet and tapping the screen to life.
"10642!" he barked back, the words tumbling out like a rehearsed prayer. He'd probably been muttering it in his sleep for weeks, ever since the program locked him down.
I scrolled through the database, my finger pausing on his entry. There it was: Inmate 10642, convicted of armed robbery. His file included the code for The Box, and inside waited a tiny key. It was tiny, even for a human. Far too small for anthro paws and claws to manipulate into place.
"Are you ready to talk?" I asked, stepping closer, the tablet clutched in one hand.
"Yes!" The bear's voice cracked, his massive body trembling. Half a ton of muscle and fur, reduced to pleading.
I made a show of rubbing my hands together, blowing on them for warmth. "Are you going to let me touch whatever I want?"
"Yes!" he whined.
I reached out, my finger tapping the metal cage. Dink. Dink. Dink. The surface was very warm to the touch, radiating the pent-up heat.
Unlike that bear though, this bear was going to make me bust. I did when this stupid flashback ended. Davis shuddered more though, because of course he did.
“Davis, drain this sodding tub before the next lot use it. Then dry me off without sucking me off. I need to get back to my desk tomorrow.”
The Bison Incident:
But now, let us go back a bit, meet some of the rest of the team. While my work falls under the umbrella of policing, I am not a regular beat-officer. As such, when I go out under the ARO programme, I have the standard two officers in the car with me.
Sitting alongside me most of the time is officers Joshua Schreber and Mirosław Henryków. Joshua was assigned to work alongside me from the start and Mirosław had been the latest rotation in. Joshua was a head shorter than me and skinny as a rake – being a cheetah – but it meant he always rode up front or drove whatever we were saddled with. Mirosław, on the other hand, took up most of the back seats. We often said the bison was better measured in tonnes. He often said he was technically a wisent and I often told him to stop being a wise-ass.
I’m not going to sugar-coat the fact I fucked officer Schreber on the regular. We shared the same changing room and occasionally had to help each other in shootouts. The guy did a lot of running and ate fairly well and he was more than happy to let me plough him in the showers.
As for the bison, well, it was only a matter of time. He wasn’t Mr. “Sunshine and rainbows” and between me and Schreber we were fairly convinced the ring on the chain around his huge fuck-off neck meant he wasn’t getting much of anything. I bet it was two weeks, he bet three, so I put my back into it and got it down to eight working days.
How? The guys massive, he can’t reach his own back. Why does that matter? Because it means he can’t scratch it easily. We were in the locker room again and he kept rolling his shoulders and neck in that tell-tale way that he had an itch. Being the nice person I am, well, I just dug my fingers in and he just accepted the fact, him verbally guiding my aim until I got the spot.
“Must suck, do you have a loofa or something?” I asked him. His thick arms meant he had no chance of reaching most of his own back.
“Yes,” the bison admits, “but it bad, hard to reach still.”
“Gotta keep the fur clean, I think we got some anti-dander around here somewhere. Davis stocks it…” I pilfered the bear’s bottle from his locker. He won’t care. Mirosław held out a huge hand to take it. “And how are you going to reach?”
“Oh.”
“And it goes on wet.”
So, there I am, standing behind him in the communal showers lathering up his back. Lots of foam, lots of fur massaging. Shower sex sucks, 'cos water actively stops lube from working and one person tends to end up cold but damp. Shower foreplay is great though. I’m soaping lower and lower. He’s all "eastern conservative" talking, very "no homo". Then I start work on the tail and its base and suddenly the big guy spreads his legs a little bit and says "it not gay unless you touch dick".
Yup, may as well get the thighs whilst I’m at it, and everything else. Once you’ve soaped up everything else, well, his cock and balls looked almost stupid without all the suds…
The Wolf Problem, Casset 1-a:
The Prep rooms avoided harsh lines, all curves and muted greys to soothe rather than provoke. I knocked on the door to his cell, and it swung open with a soft whoosh. Jason stood there, the young wolf just out of his teens, grey fur with white accents. His frame was lean, not yet filled out with the bulk of older anthros, and he wore the standard jumpsuit zipped neatly to his neck. As I stepped inside, I pulled the tiny blue plastic and metal clicker from my pocket, its button worn from use.
“Hello, Detective Anon,” Jason said, his voice steady, tail giving a tentative swish.
“Awake, door opened, eye contact,” I noted aloud, making a deliberate show of pressing the clicker.
*T’tick. *
The sound was still crisp. “Good work, Jason. Have you made progress?”
“Yes, Detective!” He bounded over to the fixed table bolted to the floor, his movements eager but controlled. On it lay the workbook. It was filled with basic educational exercises designed to rebuild what the streets had eroded. He flipped it open, revealing pages crammed with his scrawled handwriting, messy loops and crosses from someone who hadn't held a pen since elementary school.
T’tick.
“Let me have a quick look…” I drew the answer key from my tablet case, scanning his work. Jason wrung his paws together, claws clicking nervously as he watched. I marked a few correct answers with ticks. One of them had the right method, but the wrong answer. It would be wrong to deny him a chance to fix it, that was the whole point of him being here. “Could you check this one again?”
He took the book back, brow furrowing in concentration, tongue peeking out as he puzzled through it. I handed him a soft-tipped pen. After a moment, he scratched out the error and wrote the right answer.
*T’tick. *
“Good work, Jason.” His tail exploded into a frenzy of wags, thumping against his legs. His jumpsuit hung crisp, no wrinkles or stains, and the room mirrored that tidiness “You've kept everything so neat. I'm impressed.”
*T’tick. *
“I’m very pleased with your progress, Jason.” The words warmed as I said them, and I opened my arms. He stepped into the hug without hesitation, his body pressing close, lean muscles tensing then relaxing against me. Emotionally, he melted like a pup half his age, muzzle burying into my shoulder, a soft whine escaping as he clung. In this place, I was the father these lost anthros never had. “I think if you finish the next workbook, we’ll be able to put you up for adoption… A good home, real stability. You've earned that shot.”
This was why I needed my leg back. The programme worked. It all worked. I made it work.
The Wolf Problem, Casset 1-b:
I had another reason to see Jason - it was because of his crime. He, like many a poor youth, had got caught up in the drug trade. He was at the bottom of the rung, someone who peddled pills for pennies on the pound. He hadn't been hard to catch, and when the judge gave him the option for ARO he had taken it eagerly.
"I have a favour to ask you, Jason," I began, settling into the chair across from him. "I know you know where the drugs are coming from. And I also know that my team will struggle to find them without inside knowledge. I can't promise time off the sentencing, but you can be under my care for the duration - out of the facility, helping with the investigation. What do you think?"
Jason's face cycled through several emotions. Nervousness, certainly, but also something that looked like determination. He glanced at the window, then back at me. "Will I… will I be safe? If they find out?"
"I'll make sure of it. You'll stay with me, and we'll be careful."
He straightened up a bit, squaring his shoulders. "Then… yes. I want to help."
T'tick.
While a prison will issue someone clothing on release, it's rarely anything fantastic. Even so, Jason looked significantly happier in the plain clothing - a simple grey hoodie and jeans. There was a good chance it was better than whatever he had before. He did have to wear a collar, likewise plain in appearance, but one he wasn't allowed to remove as a stipulation for release into my care. It was a tracker, but enough gangsters wore them that it could be a fashion statement. Jason didn't seem to mind, tugging at it once to adjust the fit before leaving it alone.
It was late by the time I had driven us back to my home. Paperwork had to be signed, that sort of thing. It was like a temporary foster arrangement - a legally weird place to be. Jason had been quiet during the drive, but not fearfully so. He watched the city lights slide past the window, occasionally asking questions. "Is that the new stadium?" "How far do you live from downtown?"
My house was fairly nice, but it must have seemed like a luxury to Jason. For one thing the TV was larger than a loaf of bread, unlike the one behind the protective screen he sometimes got to use. He let out a low whistle when we walked in. "This is nice, Detective."
"Just 'Anon' is fine when we're here," I said. "Make yourself comfortable."
I cooked a box of frozen bang-meat and shoved a tray of fries in for both of us. It was something anyone would eat. Tomorrow I could just buy something if he didn't like it. I had grown to like bang-meat - it kept better than the real stuff and I never liked picking the bones out of anything. I got everything boneless, it was great.
Jason seemed more relaxed now, eating with reasonable appetite. He even made a comment about the fries being "way better than facility food," which made me chuckle. A T'tick here and there for remembering his table manners probably helped ease him into the routine.
"Here," I slid his latest educational workbook in front of him after we'd finished eating, "fill in your name and the first page and you can watch TV for the rest of the evening." I also pushed across a pencil - a regular one with an eraser on the tip. "Keeps your pages clean if you make mistakes."
Some fifteen minutes later he came into my living room, workbook in hand. The glossy dark blue cover with its gold lettering promising an exciting journey into literature was carefully handed over to me. He had done as I had asked, and his handwriting was already getting neater.
T'tick.
I handed the pencil and book back to him, alongside the TV remote. "You earned it, kid. Pick whatever you want to watch."
He settled onto the couch, flipping through channels with an expression of genuine contentment. As I headed to my office to review tomorrow's case files, I heard him laugh at something on the screen.
Yeah. The programme worked.
The Wolf Problem, Casset 1-c:
There was always a nagging sense of danger you develop in this line of work. My kitchen had sharp knives, there were chemicals under the sink, heavy blunt objects that could be used to bludgeon someone. Even some valuables on display.
I had a spare room, which I had been using to store a bunch of old box files on the bed therein. I had spent the time Jason watched the TV to lug them off and tidy the place up. It wasn’t amazing, no guest bedroom these days is, but the bed had an actual mattress and a duvet, a far cry from the thin pad and anti-ligature sheets.
I had shown him the room and the bathroom and had put myself to bed, but it must have been around 30 minutes later I heard a knock on my door. Jason stood there, tail between his legs, ears flat, holding on of his arms uncertainly.
“I can’t sleep.”
There was nothing else for it. I lifted the sheets. “Come on, you’re letting the heat out.”
He shuffled closer and gently folded himself onto the very edge of my bed. I wasn’t going to have him fall out, so I put both my arms around him and pulled him in. He curled up and made a soft whimpering noise and after a moment I felt as the arm under his head received a single tear before he fell asleep.
I didn’t sleep much. But I’d stayed up longer in more uncomfortable poses, so I lived.